


Famous Last Words

by kryptidkat



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptidkat/pseuds/kryptidkat
Summary: A campfire late at night when the world only seems half-real makes for deep and strange conversations that would be mortifyingly vulnerable if they occurred in the daytime.Kobra's POV.





	Famous Last Words

It was late, but they weren’t asleep. Just sprawled around the campfire on their backs, looking up at the sky. Kobra nestled a more comfortable hollow in the sand and tucked his arm under his head.

“No, no, don’t get me wrong, it’d be nice to believe in something,” Ghoul was insisting. “Really. I just can’t, man.”

“I believe in a lot of things I can’t see, but I _saw_ her,” Party said stubbornly. “She gave me a feather.” Kobra had heard the story a dozen times.

Jet hadn’t. He propped himself up on his elbow. “The Phoenix Witch literally handed you a feather.”

“Well nooo,” Party fudged, “but it was right there, okay? Floated down from nowhere right in front of me when she disappeared.”

Jet sighed. “Okay, man. Whatever.”

“Heat mirage and a mangy bird,” Ghoul muttered. Kobra kicked him.

Party had sharp ears. “Oh yeah? Then care to explain what you’re always running off to the mailbox for, Mr. I-Don’t-Believe-In-Anything?”

“It – I…because!” Ghoul sputtered. “Shut up!”

“For pete’s sake, you think she’s a con or a mass hallucination or whatever, what do you care about the mailbox?”

“You make one more crack about it and I’ll feed you to the coyotes,” Ghoul snarled, tensing up like he might launch himself across the fire and pummel him.

“Fine, forget it! Sheesh.”

Ghoul lay back down and folded his arms tightly across his chest.

Kobra watched orange sparks flying up to mingle with the cold blue constellations before winking out. Belief was a funny thing. Cherri let him look at his rosary once and Kobra had run the smooth, worn beads between his fingers curiously. He could see how it might be peaceful to use. If you got Cherri started he’d wave his hands around and start rambling excitedly about people called patron saints and stuff like that. He was fascinating to listen to when he went all nerd mode, but Kobra never really understood what he was talking about.

Kobra couldn’t help but think it’d be nice if he could _not_ believe in something, to know he wasn’t failing a destiny assigned to him by some higher cosmic being. But there was too much out there to be sure. Too great an unknown. He talked to Someone, sometimes, whoever it was. Not a proper prayer or anything. Just talked.

“Destroya’s real!” Jet offered brightly. “I mean, I haven’t met him, but he’s real.” His voice fell. “He’s not a god though.”

“Maybe,” said Party.

“Dude. It’s just a robot.”

“What he said,” Ghoul contributed.

Party scoffed. “So you don’t believe in anything either.”

“I do!” Jet protested. “I just don’t know what.”

Ghoul dug around in his pockets. “Eh, we can’t all have flawless intellects like me. Aha!” He brandished a half-empty cigarette cartoon. He shook one out and passed the box to Kobra.

Kobra took one gratefully and handed another to Party.

Jet radiated disapproval. But he didn’t say anything as they lit up, just shifted over so he wasn’t downwind. Everyone fell into companionable silence. Kobra blew out a slow breath of white smoke that curled overhead and drifted away.

Something streaked faintly across the sky and was gone. A meteor. Or a satellite, falling from orbit and burning into nothing.

“Ever wonder what your last words are going to be?” It left Kobra’s mouth before he knew he was thinking it.

There was an unnerved laugh from Jet. “What the heck, Kobra.”

“Don’t what the heck me. I know you’ve thought about it.”

“ _I_ haven’t,” said Jet.

“I have,” said Ghoul. “What’d yours be, Party?”

“‘Shit,’” Party said without hesitation.

He was probably right. It earned a chuckle from the other two. Kobra could imagine Party’s wry grin without looking at him.

“Your turn, Jet.” Party tossed his cigarette stump into the flames.

 “Oh, I don’t know, ‘Hey punk, why don’t you pick on someone your own size’ or something.”

As last words went, he’d heard of lamer. Still, Kobra felt like Jet wasn’t really getting into the spirit of things.

A branch in the fire snapped loudly.

“‘Save yourself, I’ll hold them back.’” Ghoul’s voice. Dead serious.

Ghoul always took his questions seriously. Too seriously, maybe. But Kobra liked that about him.

“Jeez, Fun,” said Party, after an uncomfortably long time.

“Nah, alright, probably more like ‘Should’ve quit smoking when I had the chance,’” Ghoul amended, but there was an edge to his laugh. To hide it he went into a fake, wheezy cough routine that ended with a dramatic death rattle.

Silence settled over them again.

A boot nudged Kobra’s knee. “You didn’t say yours, K.”

“Out with it, Kobra!”

“Yeah, you started it.”

Kobra hesitated. “Nothing, I guess,” he said at last, honestly enough. For the moment. No one disputed it, so they must have believed him.

Party chortled suddenly. “Okay, okay, a classic – ‘How could things possibly get worse?’”

Ghoul cracked up. “‘Hold my beer!’”

“‘Wait, flammable and inflammable are the same thing?’”

 “‘I wonder what this big red button does.’”

 “‘I swear I fixed the brakes, it’s fine!’”

 “‘Whaddya mean this Power Pup expired in 2018?’”

More gurgling dying noises.

Kobra tuned them out. What was there to say, really? What could anyone say? And yet wasn’t there always something worth saying at the end if you could? Would you even have the wits to really choose, in your final moments?

If you got it wrong, he guessed it’d be too much to ask the Witch or God or whoever came to get you to let you go back and try again.

The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that he had lied. Whether it was a hoarse whisper or a scream, wouldn’t it always be his brother’s name?

Kobra pulled his jacket tighter against the chill in the air. Ghoul and Party had finally quit rolling around clutching their sides and egging each other on. Jet threw the last of the sticks into the dying fire.

Somewhere in the distance a coyote howled.

Then his brother was right next to him, scooting up close against his side, snuggling his head contentedly into the crook of Kobra’s arm. Caught off guard, Kobra automatically stiffened. But a moment later he allowed himself a little sigh and relaxed into Party’s warmth.

It was nice, knowing. It wouldn’t be so bad now when it happened. Not as long as he was with him.

Through half-closed eyes, he kept watching the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t have a specific time setting in mind for this when I wrote it, but if you wanna make it sad just imagine it’s pre-Sing. You’re welcome.


End file.
